


The Sherlock Selection

by aspermoth



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Love Poems, M/M, POV First Person, Poetry, Seduction, Sonnet, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspermoth/pseuds/aspermoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trio of sonnets written by Greg Lestrade for Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cut of Your Jib

You always tell us that you feel nothing:  
You're a sociopath, heartless and glib.  
But I don't agree: I think you're bluffing.  
Some day, I will grasp the cut of your jib.  
You're smarter than me – that's self-evident –  
But I'll make you see that I am no fool.  
On your great intellect I know I have leant,  
But maybe, some day, I'll take you to school.  
You have always looked down your nose at me,  
But I crawl back to you, time after time.  
I wish you could know how hard _my_ job can be –  
I wish that I could say that you were mine.  
Sherlock, you bastard, you know you can't hide –  
I'll find those secrets you've hidden inside.


	2. Part of Me

Jack the Ripper could have done this one –  
There's organs all about the place,  
But no evidence, no smoking gun,  
Just you, intense look on your face.  
I watch you and wonder what you'd be  
If you were an organ, part of me.  
No, not the heart, that is cliché.  
And though you take my breath away,  
You are not my lungs – that much I know.  
Are you my kidney? Or my spleen?  
My liver? Or my eyeballs keen?  
No – a parasite with space to grow.  
You've lived inside me from the start,  
Your twisted feelers 'round my heart.


	3. The Blindest Man I've Met

I show affection in secret –  
I cannot afford to be seen,  
Or have my weaknesses exposed:  
You are the only one who knows –  
At least that's how it should have been,  
But you're the blindest man I've met.  
Your mind is sharp, your eyes are peeled,  
And like a sword, the both you wield,  
And yet you cannot cut the threads  
Or tear my subtle hints apart.  
So do I have to spell it out?  
Or jump and dance and scream and shout?  
You cannot see inside my heart  
What you can see in others' heads?


End file.
